


tweet me

by decideophobia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decideophobia/pseuds/decideophobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His icon picture is a pissed looking cat. Derek vaguely remembers Stiles, Scott and Isaac going on and on about a grumpy cat and how much it resembles Derek. He doesn’t look like the cat. At all. Derek frowns at the username which he figures is <i>eyebrowking</i> and beneath the name it says, <i>I will rip your throat out. With my teeth.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	tweet me

**Author's Note:**

> Don't eat or judge me. I was bullied into this. By Chris. It's all Chris' fault. Yep.
> 
> Also, a _lot_ of Twitter convos. Thank you to Amy Rose for cheering me on and providing the username for Derek's Twitter.

Derek’s just opened the bathroom door when Stiles falls face first into him, pressing his mouth rapturously against Derek’s. Admittedly, it takes him by surprise but he still goes with it, wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulls him closer. When Stiles eventually pulls away, his eyes are bright and amused.

“I gotta go now,” Stiles informs him but runs his fingers along the waistband of Derek’s pants. He’s doing it on purpose, the taunting little shit. “You know, bonding with Dad tonight.”

“I remember,” Derek replies as he slides his hands into Stiles’ hair and gently pulls his head back to duck down and bite at the base of his throat. Stiles groans. Derek can’t help but grin smugly; two can play that game. He lets go and steps away. “Have fun.”

Stiles looks at him with narrowed eyes, hand coming up to unconsciously trace over the stop Derek’s put this mouth to. It’s when Derek notices that Stiles is wearing one of his shirts again, “olive green” he hears Lydia say in his head, “V-neck”. 

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly, having obviously caught Derek staring. “All my shirts I have over here are in the _laundry_.”

Derek flicks his ear at the implication and snickers when Stiles lets out a surprised yelp. “It’s not like you don’t know how to operate a washing machine. The detergent is right there too.”

Stiles snorts. “Where are your manners, Derek? Has no one ever taught you hospitality?”

Derek scoffs lightly and says, “I let you wear my clothes,” and takes a step forward. “I feed you.” Another one and Stiles takes two steps back until his back is flushed against the wall behind him. “I fuck you,” he breathes against Stiles’ ear. A satisfied grin tugs on his lips when Stiles shivers. “If that’s not hospitality, I don’t know what is.”

“You fuck everyone who comes to visit you?” Stiles asks, and although his voice is a little hoarse it’s still dripping with sarcasm. 

“No,” Derek answers and hums lightly, kisses the soft spot behind Stiles’ ear. “That’s a privilege only you get.”

“I am honored.” There’s still sarcasm in his tone. 

“Maybe I should reconsider your privileges if you don’t appreciate them properly,” Derek suggests, deadpan, and draws back. 

“We’ll see how that goes,” Stiles counters with a cocky grin. He pushes himself away from the wall and goes to grab his bag. Derek trails after him when Stiles heads for the door.

“Tell your dad I said hi,” he says when Stiles turns around to him. Stiles narrows his eyes but there’s no seriousness behind it.

“Please, don’t think I don’t know you started hanging out and bonding over me,” Stiles replies rolling his eyes. “I’m still undecided whether I find this new Bromance terrifying or refreshing, though.”

“It’s not a Bromance, Stiles,” Derek denies, weakly. “He’s your father.”

“Has he already threatened to shoot if you break my heart?” There’s a mad glimmer in Stiles’ eyes. Derek groans. 

“He said Scott would help him getting rid of my body,” Derek deadpans, although it’s the truth, and Derek has no doubts about it. Stiles cackles. Derek doesn’t know why his potential suffering is the cause of such delight—but well, he’s kind of familiar with that. 

“I bet he would,” Stiles nods. His wide grin transforms into a soft smile and he slides his hands over Derek’s cheek, over his ear and into his hair, pulling him close. He plants a tender kiss on Derek’s lips. “I can tell from experience, though, that it will never come to this.”

“You might want to pitch that to your father and Scott,” Derek murmurs against Stiles’ lips and earns a light chuckle in return. 

“Duly noted,” Stiles promises. He runs a hand over Derek’s shoulder and down his side, follows the motion with his eyes; he sighs a little wistfully. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Like you wouldn’t even if I said no.”

“Dude, you’re stuck with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Derek says and leans in to steal another kiss. Stiles smiles brightly at him. “Have fun tonight.”

“You too.”

It takes another five minutes before he actually leaves, because Derek can’t keep away from Stiles’ lips, and Stiles has his fingers hooked in his waistband. 

Derek decides to do the laundry after Stiles is gone; not because Stiles said so but because Derek’s running out of clean clothes too. For a second, he even considers leaving Stiles’ stuff just to look where it would get him. It would also mean that Stiles would have to steal Derek’s clothes again. It sounds like a good plan to him if he’s honest but he’s sure Stiles wouldn’t let him live it down, so he decides against it. 

He turns on the wash cycle and goes to check on his emails. Derek moves his fingers over the touchpad to turn on the screen of his laptop and finds that Twitter is open in the tab of the browser. He stares at the profile, confused, until he realizes that it’s _his_. Derek scowls while he takes everything in. Stiles must have done it while he was showering. It’s about time he sets up a password for the laptop so Stiles can’t mess around on it. 

His icon picture is a pissed looking cat. Derek vaguely remembers Stiles, Scott and Isaac going on and on about a grumpy cat and how much it resembles Derek. He doesn’t look like the cat. At all. Derek frowns at the username which he figures is _eyebrowking_ and beneath the name it says, _I will rip your throat out. With my teeth._ He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. Stiles is probably cackling like a mad person right now, somewhere. Derek can picture him telling his father about this. There was a time when Derek’s main concern was what other supernatural being would turn up to try and shred them to pieces. Now, he tries to predict what thing is going to pull on him next. He’s never managed to do that, though. When has his life turned into this?

Despite his irritation, Derek clicks on the 1 that hovers above ‘following’. It leads him straight to Stiles’ timeline. Stiles has piled up quite the amount of tweets—yes, he’s familiar with the terms—and Derek can’t find it in himself to be surprised about it. The message on top of Stiles’ feed reads, _I’m the Alpha now. Grrrrrrrr. @eyebrowking_ , and it has a photo attached. Derek ponders whether he should click on the link or not. He does. 

It’s a photo of Stiles making claw hands and with his lips curled back. Derek figures it’s meant to be growling. Despite himself, he saves the picture to his computer. He stares at Stiles’ Twitter for a little while longer and reads the most recent tweets before he changes to his own profile and stares some more. Derek’s fingers twitch. He shuts off the laptop before he can do something stupid, like, actually rise to the bait. 

He refuses to acknowledge Stiles’ doing in any way.

Yet, he finds himself checking on his Twitter the next day. (Stiles has set the account on ‘keep me logged in’. Derek has the quiet suspicion it was, because he knew Derek wouldn’t bother to find out the password otherwise—damn him.) Obviously, Derek’s gained a number of followers overnight who are, as it turns out, his pack. That was probably Stiles’ doing too. Derek didn’t even know they were all on Twitter. It’s ridiculous. He’s confronted with several tweets directed at him from the others. 

Jackson tweeted everyone, including Derek, _50 bucks says Derek’s going to change his username to imthealphanow._

Erica replied with, _100 says he won’t, because everything Stiles’ touches is gold and precious._

Boyd answered, _I’ll go with Erica here._ Sucker.

 _150 says they won’t stay out of each other’s pants even via Twitter_ , Isaac responded. Derek can practically see him rolling his eyes. He wonders where Isaac wants to take the 150 bucks from but he almost supposes he’d make Derek pay it somehow. He’s tried to put up a jar and make Stiles and Derek put money into it every time Isaac walks in on them kissing, making out, general PDA—as he likes to say—and Stiles occasionally drops some of his change money into it. 

Both Scott and Lydia replied with a simple, _Seconded_. 

There’s a tweet from Allison that has only him in the mentions, and it says, _You know, there’s a blocking function on here. You can use it whenever._

Derek barks out a laugh at that, he can’t help it. He checks Stiles’ timeline. Naturally, there is another mention of Derek.

_Dad’s spent five minutes straight laughing at @eyebrowking. Heads up, he says he sees where it comes from._

Derek considers cutting all ties he has to Beacon Hills and go back to New York. He’s allowed to be dramatic like that every once in a while. Especially when dealing with Stiles’ shenanigans day in day out. He sighs and closes the tab.

If he keeps checking on Twitter throughout the day, well, no one knows but him. 

Derek calls up Stiles’ timeline late in the afternoon to find a bunch of tweets that seem to attest that Stiles is determined to get Derek to tweet. 

_@eyebrowking Derek._

_@eyebrowking Dereeek._

_@eyebrowking Deeeereeeeeek._

_@eyebrowking Talk to me, Derek._

_@eyebrowking I know you want to. You know that you want to._

_@eyebrowking I know that you know that I know that you want to._

Derek smirks to himself. He’s not even questioning why Stiles seems to be sure that he checks his newly acquired Twitter. Knowing Stiles, Derek assumes he’s mostly guessing and hoping for the best, and Derek is annoyed by himself that he can’t stay away. 

The next day he wakes up to a string of new tweets from Stiles that all involve some sort of revelation about Derek, starting with things like, _Derek is a cuddler_ and going to things like, _When the Alpha male is in an especially good mood, he tends to sing in the shower._

Derek doesn’t consciously decide to cave. 

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso You’re not allowed into the loft anymore. Or on the laptop._

He leans back and waits for a response. He doesn’t have to wait long.

_@eyebrowking Pffft. Watch me._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso Don’t cry me a river when you find yourself sitting in front of the door and not getting in._

_@eyebrowking Like you can resist me._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso You gave me enough motivation to do so._

_@eyebrowking Keep lying to yourself, plushiewolf. Everyone knows you wanna get all up in that 24/7._

Yes, in fact, he does wants to be all over Stiles most of the time but that doesn’t mean he would ever speak his mind about it out loud. He certainly won’t give Stiles the satisfaction now. 

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso If by ‘that’ you mean coffee, then you’re absolutely right. Also every moment I’m not getting pestered by any of you._

_@eyebrowking Your life would be so boring without us. You’d have no one to show off your eyebrows to._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso My eyebrows aren’t on top of the list of things I could show off._

_@eyebrowking Everything about you is show-off._

Derek doesn’t preen. He doesn’t.

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’m honored._

_@eyebrowking Well, except for the manners. Don’t get me started on hospitality._

Oh, here they go again. Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles is a terrible host. Terrible is an understatement. Derek doesn’t bother asking anymore. Whenever he needs something when he’s over at Stiles’ place he just gets up to get it himself. 

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I want to point out that you’ve abused my hospitality, so you don’t get to judge._

_@eyebrowking You seemed pretty enthusiastic about the sex, though._

Derek buries his face in his hands with a groan. How is it Stiles’ first thought is always about sex?

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’m talking about you sneaking up on me with that Twitter conspiracy._

_@eyebrowking Twitter conspiracy? Really, Derek?_

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’m not going to let you use my laptop for anything ever again._

_@eyebrowking That’s fine. I have my own._

Derek tries not about all of the things Stiles will coax him into. Maybe he should change the password on Stiles’ computer too, so he won’t be able to access it anymore. 

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso Bear in mind that your favorite shirt is still at my place._

_@eyebrowking You wouldn’t!!!_

Derek can vividly picture Stiles’ flailing and squawking. He grins widely. 

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso Pffft. Watch me._

_@eyebrowking Oh, I’ll have you know, you’re playing with forces of nature here._

Derek lifts his eyebrows.

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’m quivering with fear._

_@eyebrowking I’m withholding treats if you don’t leave my shirt alone!_

Derek snorts. He’s starting to enjoy this Twitter thing. 

_@withoutmeitsjustawesome Are you threatening with sexile again?_

_@eyebrowking I will steal your precious leather jackets._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’d rather go with the sexile._

It’s a blatant lie. He’s pretty sure Stiles knows that. 

_@eyebrowking More one-on-one time with my hand then. Sweet._

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s sure he shouldn’t respond to that and let Stiles draw him deeper into an inappropriate conversation—at least not via Twitter. It’s not like Derek doesn’t appreciate Stiles dirty talking—because that gets him up and going pretty fast. Derek stares at his number of followers and remembers their tweets from yesterday. He can’t help the shark-like grin spreading across his face. 

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso Like you don’t do it extendedly and thoroughly anyway._

_@eyebrowking In several places and positions actually. Thinking of Jackson._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’m pretty sure Jackson is delighted._

_@eyebrowking Aw, man, aren’t you jealous?_

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I remember that one time you saw Jackson naked and it took me several blowjobs to wipe your mind clean of that image._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso So, no, I can tell for sure you’re not thinking of Jackson. Well, if you do, it’s sure as hell not getting you hard._

Stiles had covered his eyes for weeks after that when he’d seen Jackson and asked, “Are you decent and completely covered?” before looking again. Jackson had bitched about it all the time. Lydia laughs about it every time it comes up. Apparently, Jackson had been waiting for her. However, Derek still doesn’t know the whole story but he’s sure he doesn’t want to know either.

_@eyebrowking Oh yeah, THOSE were some extended and thorough blowjobs._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso You even weren’t able to string together a coherent sentence after that. It was a first._

_@eyebrowking Shut up, you were intrigued._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’m intrigued about everything that is you._

_@eyebrowking Are you trying to sweet talk yourself out of sexile now?_

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso You’re not the only one who can have sweet one-on-one time with your hand._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso In fact, I could use some company of my hand now. So I’m gonna go, and just imagine it’s you._

_@eyebrowking Dude, what? No._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso Talk to you later._

_@eyebrowking WAIT WHAT DEREK???_

Derek tries to reign in the smug smirk but it doesn’t work. He leans back in the armchair and stretches his arms over his head. Putting the laptop on the coffee table, Derek gets up and goes into the kitchen to get some coffee. He smirks all the while, thinking about Stiles sitting in front of his computer. Probably, he stares open-mouthed at the screen, long fingers flying over the keyboard. Yeah, Derek doesn’t need much imagination when it comes to this. 

He comes back five minutes later, his second mug of coffee now in one hand, to find a number of tweets from Stiles. It’s delightful. 

_@eyebrowking DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THAT DUDE NOT COOL_

_@eyebrowking AT LEAST TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE THINKING OF EXACTLY_

_@eyebrowking OR TAKE PICTURES YES_

_@eyebrowking GIMME ALL THE FILTHY DETAILS DEREK_

_@eyebrowking COME ON YOU HAVE THE DIRTIEST MIND SHARE WITH ME HERE_

_@eyebrowking DEREK_

Derek practically hears Stiles’ whiney tone in his head, the way he always pleads for more, and he has to take several deep breaths to keep himself calm. He really shouldn’t be so easy. It’s ridiculous. Stiles isn’t even here, Derek can’t see him or hear him, and still. Here he is, having to reign his mind and memory in. 

He waits another ten minutes during which Stiles sends a whole bunch of desperate tweets before he replies.

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso You sexiled me, I don’t think it’s appropriate if I told you all the things I thought about._

_@eyebrowking Screw the sexile, Derek, tell me everything. Every tiny, filthy detail._

_@withoutmeitsjustaweso You want to know everything?_

_@eyebrowking Yes, jackass, everything._

Derek grins ferociously.

 _@withoutmeitsjustaweso I’m not done yet._

With that, he flips the laptop close and leans back again. He grins into his mug. 

Derek manages to stay away from the computer for a couple of hours, although he catches himself thinking about Stiles and his reactions. He’s actually a little surprised Stiles hasn’t come to the loft, or tried his phone. Derek figures it’s because Stiles doesn’t want to cave, he never does; they’re the same when it comes to stuff like that. Nevertheless, Derek finds himself giving in more often than not. The Twitter thing is a prime example. 

Isaac comes back from the job he took on during break and bustles past Derek and into his room while Derek sits back on the couch, flipping open his laptop. When he checks his Twitter feed, he realizes, pleased, that he has less followers than he had earlier. The only people left following him are Stiles, Erica, Lydia, Allison and Isaac. He’s not surprised about the girls—although he’s rather bummed out that Stiles and his conversation didn’t scare them away. Who is he kidding, though, Erica would never leave over this; Lydia finds it entertaining, and Allison is just above stuff like this. 

Derek’s checking for Stiles’ tweets when Isaac lets out a yelp and comes skittering into the living room, flushed to the hairline. 

“You owe me 150 bucks!” he yells jabbing a finger at Derek. 

“I didn’t bet,” Derek retorts unimpressed. He tries to keep his face blank but the smirk is tugging relentlessly at the corners of his mouth. “Feel free to unfollow me.”

“I already did,” Isaac snaps and shudders all over. “You can never keep it in your pants,” he complains then, running a hand through his hair. Suddenly, Isaac is narrowing his eyes at Derek. He gets this dangerous look on his face. “You are aware that everyone can see your conversation, right? Say, if Scott pitched Stiles’ dad his username or yours…oh wait! His dad knows yours already!”

Derek throws a pillow at Isaac’s gleeful face before he turns and frantically checks for his settings. He shouldn’t feel so panicky about it. It’s not like the Sheriff doesn’t know. But, well, he doesn’t have to know in _detail_. Derek heaves out a relieved breath when he finds the option to set his account to private so nobody who isn’t following him can see his posts; and he has to approve of the follower before they can see his tweets. He smirks a little. This way he can keep his pack out of it. 

“You two are so disgusting,” Isaac informs him.

“Just for you,” Derek counters nonchalantly. Isaac rolls his eyes and makes a face.

“I’m scarred for life.”

“Of all the things that could have scarred your for life you chose this?”

“You have no idea,” Isaac says. He turns on his heel and disappears into his room the same second Stiles comes bustling into the loft. Derek occasionally still tries to convince himself it wasn’t a bad idea to give Stiles a spare key. 

“You!” Stiles exclaims and points a finger at Derek while marches straight up to where he’s sitting. “Don’t you dare doing this to me ever again.”

“What?” Derek asks. He doesn’t manage the innocuous tone Stiles has down to an art. It doesn’t matter anyway. Stiles shuts Derek’s laptop and puts it on the table before straddling Derek’s lap. 

“Leave me hanging like that,” Stiles elaborates with a dismissive motion of his hand. “If you’re going to have fun with yourself, the least you can do is tell me everything.”

Stiles runs his hands up Derek’s torso and over his shoulders. Derek smirks a little. “It took you long enough to get here.”

“Well, yeah,” Stiles says and rolls his eyes. “I’m not _that_ needy.”

Derek lifts his eyebrows. Stiles is the neediest person Derek knows. It’s insane. Stiles pouts at Derek’s doubtful look as if he’s honestly insulted that Derek might think otherwise.

“Okay, I had a raging boner and I had to take care of it. Repeatedly.”

Derek hides his smug smirk in the crook of Stiles’ neck and trails his fingers over Stiles’ thighs. He nips at Stiles’ jawline, sliding his hands from Stiles’ sides to his back and up. Stiles shudders so nicely against him. 

“Was it good?” Derek asks; he can’t help the way his voice gets throaty and lower than usual. He slips a hand under Stiles’ shirt and runs it up his stomach and to his ribs, fans his fingers out over where he can feel Stiles’ frantic heartbeat. 

Stiles’ breath hitches a little. “Yeah,” he breathes, pupils somewhat dilated already. “But it wasn’t as good as when you do it.”

Derek likes to hear that, he has to admit. “I can help with that,” he offers, hand dipping between Stiles’ legs. Stiles dips his head back biting his lip and bucking up into Derek’s touch.

“BOTH OF YOU OWE ME 150 BUCKS!” Isaac shouts from out of his room. Stiles laughs gleefully, and Derek just rolls his eyes. He grips Stiles’ thighs and gets up; Stiles wraps his long legs around him immediately. 

He grins against Derek’s lips, nipping at his bottom lip. “I knew it was a fucking genius idea to sign you up for Twitter.”


End file.
